


Lost & Found

by stjarna



Series: Engineering vs Biochem - 2017 (Team Engineering) [18]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, Meet Cute AU, Some Swearing, meet cute, toyshop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 12:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12630978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: A toyshop meet cute AU (No, not those kinds of toys, get your mind out of the gutter).Summary: All Jemma needed from the toyshop was a gift for her nieces, but in the end she may have found more than she bargained for.





	Lost & Found

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to @dilkirani for beta reading.
> 
> Banner by me.

Jemma grabs the shoulder strap of her purse a bit more tightly, her eyes—slightly squinted in concentration—scanning the various toys on the long and tall shelves in the large toyshop. This particular aisle really had nothing to offer that she’d consider an appropriate gift for her nieces. Everything seems just a bit too glittery, too pink, too mainstream, too expected for the inquisitive and funny five-year-old twins. Jemma sighs, turning the corner to see if she’ll have better luck in the next aisle. She freezes when she sees a little girl standing in the middle of the otherwise deserted aisle, clutching a stuffed monkey with the tag still attached. Confused, Jemma briefly turns left and right, trying to see if she can spot the girl’s parents. She can’t be more than maybe four or five.

“Hello?” Jemma asks quietly, and the little girl turns around.

Jemma purses her lips in pity when she sees tears mixed with fear in the girl’s wide-open and striking blue eyes. An involuntary “Awww” escapes Jemma’s lips before she quickly walks up to the girl, squatting down in front of her to be at her eye level.

“Did you get lost?” she asks quietly, and the girl nods, her pigtails bobbing up and down and a single big tear rolling down her cheek.

Jemma furrows her brows, reaching forward to carefully rub the girl’s arm and trying her best to give her a reassuring smile. “Okay. Wait right here for just one second. I’ll try to find someone who works here.”

Jemma pushes herself back up to standing and rushes to the end of the isle, looking left and right, but the store seems entirely void of employees.

“Sure,” Jemma mutters to herself as she scans the area one more time, “at least two of you follow me around like stray puppies the second I step in here, trying to sell me every toy on the planet, but when I could actually use your help—”

She stops her little monologue rant and turns back around to return to the little girl, who still looks petrified. Jemma squats back down, curving her lips into a smile and extending one hand in the girl’s direction. “I know your parents probably told you not to go with strangers and they are absolutely right, but my name is Jemma and I’m wondering if you would walk with me to the cash registers and then they can—”

“Millie!” a panicked male voice exclaims, causing Jemma to turn around. The little girl drops the stuffed monkey and rushes past Jemma, straight for the young man, who’s clutching his hand to his chest at the end of the aisle. He leans down, wrapping his arms around the girl and picking her up, protectively cradling her in his arms. “You scared me half to death, Millie.”

Jemma can’t help but smile. She picks up the toy the girl has dropped and walks up to the father and his child.

The man’s arms are still tightly wrapped around his daughter, who has settled seemingly contentedly on his hip, resting her head against his shoulder. “Don’t ever do that again, okay?” he begs, still trying to catch his breath. “Please. _Please!_ ”

“’m sorry,” the little girl replies, looking at her father with her big blue eyes that Jemma assumes he is powerless against.

Sure enough, a smile flashes across his face as his hand strokes the girl’s head affectionately. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Millie.” He drops his head back briefly, exclaiming a relieved “Man!” before looking back at his daughter, exhaling sharply.

“She dropped this,” Jemma remarks quietly, extending her hand holding the stuffed monkey and lifting it a bit higher.

The man’s head shoots up and he looks wide-eyed and surprised at Jemma, while the girl lifts her head off his shoulder, smiling at her widely.

“Oh,” he mutters in mild confusion, taking the monkey from Jemma and turning it front to back, before addressing his daughter. “That the one you wanted to show me?”

The girl nods silently, the corners of her mouth pulled from ear to ear.

A smile flashes across the man’s face and he huffs quietly before handing his daughter the toy. “Fine. You can have it.”

The girl takes the toy, beaming happily. She wraps her arms around her dad’s neck. “Thank you!”

“I was going to take her to the cash registers, so they could make an announcement over the speakers,” Jemma says, feeling the need to explain.

The man looks back at her, smiling shyly. “Oh. Thanks.” He raises his eyebrows, seemingly flustered. “Thank you _so_ much. I swear I only looked away for a second, and suddenly she was—”

Jemma raises her hands, reassuringly. “Oh, I know, I once lost _both_ of my nieces at a store. Twice the drama. I’m fairly certain that incident took five years off my life!”

He chuckles weakly, looking back at his daughter. “Your mums would rip my head off if they knew I’d lost you!”

“Oh, you’re not—” Jemma stops herself, realizing that it’s probably inappropriate to ask about the man’s relationship to the girl.

“Nah,” he replies, grinning one-sidedly, seemingly having figured out her assumption anyway. “She’s my best friend’s daughter. I’m more of an uncle, I guess—” He turns his head slightly, looking at the girl in his arms, smiling warmly, and poking her slightly in her belly, causing her to giggle. “—who promised to get _you_ out of the house for a few hours so that your mums can prepare everything for your big birthday party.”

“Oh, it’s your birthday?” Jemma looks at the girl.

“Yes!” The girl’s eyes light up, and she stretches one hand out, extending four fingers. “I’m four!”

“Wow.” Jemma raises her eyebrows with the same pretend astonishment she makes use of when showing herself impressed with one of her niece’s perceived accomplishments. “Congratulations!”

“Can you come?” Millie asks, her lips still pulled into a big smile and her eyes wide and expectant.

“Excuse me?” Jemma wrinkles her forehead, glancing at the young man, whose eyes have doubled in size.

“Millie!” he exclaims, but the girl seems too excited to pay him any heed.

“To my party,” she continues. “Can you come? There’s cake! Chocolate cake with strawberries and blueberries and frosting and sprinkles and glitter!”

“Millie! You can’t just—” The young man’s eyes are fixed on the little girl, before he apologetically looks at Jemma. “I’m sorry, she’s been trying to invite people all day. It’s her first big party.”

Jemma laughs, pressing her palm against her chest. “That’s very, very sweet of you, Millie. I’m quite flattered, but your mums would probably not appreciate if a complete stranger showed up for your birthday.”

“Awwww.” The girl looks back at her with disappointment, pushing her lower lip forward.

Jemma tries not to let her smile fade, reaching forward to gently pat the girl on her arm. “But I wish you an absolutely marvelous birthday party, okay? It was so nice meeting you!”

“Okay, Monkey.” The young man lifts the girl a little higher, adjusting his grip on her. “We should go. Say bye to the nice lady.”

The corners of Millie’s mouth tick up, and she stretches out one hand, waving at Jemma. “Bye, Jemma!”

“Bye, Millie.” Jemma lifts her hand, wiggling her fingers as a goodbye and smiling happily.

The young man turns around, presumably heading towards the cash registers.

“You know her name?” she hears him ask Millie, right before they disappear behind the next corner.

* * *

Fitz groans quietly when the traffic light turns red just as he approaches. He glances at his watch, letting out another disgruntled “Ugh,” as he brings his car to a stop, second in line. His eyes wander to the rearview mirror and a smile flashes across his face when he sees Millie holding her new stuffed monkey. He turns his head to check on her. “All good back there?”

“Yeah,” Millie replies, smiling widely.

Fitz rolls his eyes, dropping his head back slightly, when his audio system alerts him of an incoming phone call, at the same time the traffic light switches to green. He accepts the call, and honks when the car in front of him won’t move.

“Moira, I swear, we’re only five minutes away,” Fitz says loudly, while trying to ensure that he’s not running over any pedestrians, as he turns left at the crossing.

“Umm. Mr. Fitz? Leopold? Mr. Fitz?” a female voice stammers.

“Who is this?” Fitz squints in confusion, his tone maybe a bit more grumpy than strictly necessary.

“Oh. It’s Jemma Simmons,” the female voice replies, slightly distorted through the car’s speakers. “From the toyshop. I found your wallet.”

Fitz furrows his brows. “My wallet?”

“Yes, just outside the store, actually. It must have fallen from your pocket.”

Reflexively, Fitz reaches for his back pocket, while the female voice continues to speak.

“I opened it and saw your driver’s license, so I knew it was yours and there are some of your business cards, so that’s how I got your number and—”

“Ugh. Fuck,” Fitz exclaims, when he indeed finds his wallet missing. He immediately regrets his outburst, when Millie pipes up in the second row with an excited “Fuck!” of her own.

Fitz turns his head back and forth between Millie and the road. “No, no, no. Shite.”

He grimaces, clenching his jaw in frustration. “Ugh. Fuck. Shite. Don’t repeat that, Millie, please, please, don’t repeat that.”

“Shite,” Millie exclaims.

Fitz grabs his steering wheel more tightly, resisting the urge to ram his head against its center and settling on a deep groan instead.

“Hello?” the female voice on the other end pipes up quietly, and Fitz’s head shoots back up straight.

“Umm. Yeah,” he mutters. “Right. My wallet. Shite.”

“I thought I would leave it at the lost and found here at the store, but I wanted to give you a heads-up, so you would know where to find it. Nothing worse than having to retrace _all_ your steps.”

“Ugh,” Fitz whimpers in despair, forgetting to blink before turning left, earning him an angry honk from the car behind him. “Shite. I can’t turn around now. Moira’s gonna kill me if I don’t get to their house soon. And I promised I’d help with the party and—Ugh.” Frustrated over his own tardiness, Fitz slams his hand against his steering wheel repeatedly, unable to hold back the next flood of curse words. “Fuck. Bollocks. Fuck. Don’t repeat that, Millie, I’m begging you.”

He’s almost relieved when Millie only breaks out into a loud cackle.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry,” the female voice on the other end remarks, drawing Fitz’s attention back to her.

“ _You’re_ sorry?” he asks in disbelief. “ _I’m_ the bloody idiot who lost his wallet.”

“Maybe… What if… Where’s the party? Maybe I could drop it off?”

“What?” Fitz’s eyes widen in surprise. He shakes his head vigorously, even though his conversation partner can’t see him. “No. No, I can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. I don’t have any plans. I really don’t mind.”

Fitz switches on the blinker, turning right into a residential street. “It’s a twenty minute drive from the store.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” the chipper voice replies.

“Ugh.” Fitz pulls into the driveway and turns off the car, slumping his shoulders. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! If I were in your shoes, I’d want my wallet back sooner rather than later. I really don’t mind.”

Fitz sighs. “Thank you, Jemma.” He pauses for a moment, furrowing his brows. “Right? It was Jemma?”

“Yes, Jemma.”

“Alright. I… I just arrived at Millie’s home. I’ll text you the address.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you in no time, Mr. Fitz.”

“Just Fitz,” he tries to correct her, but she’s already ended the call.

* * *

Jemma smiles at the colorful balloons tied to a large potted plant next to the entrance of the two-storey, single-family house. She rings the doorbell and waits patiently, holding Mr. Fitz’s wallet in both hands, until the door swings open and a young woman with curly red hair awaits her, her apron dusted with powdered sugar.

The woman’s eyes wander from Jemma’s face to her hands. She smiles and turns her head halfway, calling into the hallway. “Curly Sue, your wallet is here.”

Mr. Fitz’s head pokes through one of the doors at the end of the hallway, and his eyes widen. “Oh, hey, that was fast.”

“I think your twenty minutes were a bit generously estimated.” Jemma tilts her head, peeking past whom she assumes to be one of Millie’s mums.

Mr. Fitz steps into the hallway, smiling shyly and curling one hand around the back of his neck. His lips part as he prepares to speak, but he stops and swerves in surprise when Millie swooshes past him, running straight for Jemma.

“Jemma came. Jemma came.” Millie flings her arms around Jemma’s knees, simultaneously jumping up and down.

Jemma lets out a surprised “Oh!” and reaches out to hold onto the door frame for stability, while the little girl continues her excited welcome.

“Mummy! Mummy! Jemma came. She came! Jemma came.”

Brows furrowed, the girl’s mother looks first at Mr. Fitz and then her daughter. “Why do you know the name of the woman who found Fitz’s wallet?”

“Oh, you know—” Mr. Fitz tries to begin an explanation but is interrupted by Millie.

“She helped me when I got lost at the toyshop.”

Millie’s mum’s eyes widen and she stares at Mr. Fitz. “Leopold James Fitz, did you lose my daughter?”

Mr. Fitz lifts his shoulders apologetically, gesturing at the little girl. “I turned my back on her for one second and… and I found her within like two minutes.”

Millie’s mum gasps. “Curly Sue, I cannot believe—”

“Hey,” Mr. Fitz interject sharply, pointing at his best friend, “do I need to remind you of last year’s Target incident?”

His friend’s mouth gapes ajar for a moment before falling shut. “Fair enough.” She turns to look at Jemma, extending her hand for a handshake, which Jemma gladly accepts. “Hi, I’m Moira. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Oh, no worries.” Jemma waves her off, before stretching out her hand holding Mr. Fitz’s wallet. “Here’s your wallet, Mr. Fitz.”

“Oh, thanks.” He accepts the wallet from her, holding it by one corner and smacking it against the palm of his other hand a few times, rolling front to back on his feet. “And it’s Fitz. Just Fitz.”

Jemma can’t help but smile at him, until an excited tugging on her hand causes her to look down.

“So you’re coming? You’re coming? Yes?” Millie stares at Jemma with big hopeful eyes, while everyone else’s wander in her direction.

“Oh. Um.” Jemma looks slightly befuddled from Millie to Moira to Fitz.

“No, honey, she was just here to drop off Fitz’s wallet,” Moira explains to her daughter.

“But she’s here and I want her to come. I invited her.” The girl’s eyes fill with tears and her lips pull into a sad grimace.

Fitz crouches down, putting one hand on Millie’s arm. “Millie.”

“I want her to stay,” Millie cries, one tear rolling down her cheek.

Moira squats down right next to Fitz. “Oh, honey, Milliebum, I’m sorry, but—”

“I could stay,” Jemma blurts out, regretting her impulse decision when the two adults look up with wide questioning eyes, whereas the little girl’s mouth pulls into a beaming smile.

“What?” Moira asks in disbelief, pushing herself back up to standing.

“W-well, I obviously don’t mean to invite myself, but—” Jemma swallows, gesturing at Millie. “But I don’t have any plans for today, and so, if it saves you a complete meltdown on what I presume is already a rather stressful day, then I’d be more than happy to attend her—”

A surprised “Oh” escapes Jemma’s lips when Moira lunges forward, pulling her into a tight hug, but letting go just as quickly.

“I’m so sorry for the hug attack,” Moira apologizes, pressing her hands against her chest. “But… God, you’re so right about the stress. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Jemma shakes her head, smiling widely. “Not at all. I was told there was chocolate cake with strawberries, blueberries, frosting, _and_ sprinkles.”

“And glitter!” Millie adds, raising her finger importantly, and Jemma chuckles at the girl’s adorableness.

“Alright then.” Moira turns halfway, calling down the hallway. “Leslie, our daughter just roped in one more guest.”

“Fantastic,” a female voice calls back from what Jemma assumes is the kitchen. “And by the way, I could really use your help!”

“Be right there!” Moira shouts, before looking back at Jemma. “Again. Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.” She turns side to side for a moment, seemingly confused as to what her next step should be. Then she rubs her palms together, before pointing with both index fingers at Fitz. “Okay, Fitz, you sort of know her, so I’ll leave it up to you to play host for now.” She forces a pleading smile. “Please?”

Fitz bops his head in affirmation. “Got it.”

Moira looks back at Jemma, smiling apologetically. “I’m really sorry for my bad manners, but the rest of the guests will be here soon, and I—”

Jemma waves her off. “Oh, no, no, no, please go. Don’t mind me. I think I’m in good hands.”

Moira smiles at her, before turning around and rushing with fast steps towards the kitchen. “Coming, Les!”

“She’s staying?” an excited little voice pipes up from around Jemma’s hip.

Fitz chuckles quietly, bending forward and resting his hands on his knees to bring his face closer to Millie’s. “Yes, Millie, she’s staying.”

Millie once again hugs Jemma’s legs tightly, jumping up and down, before grabbing her by the hand and pulling her into the house. “Come, come, come.”

“Millie!” Fitz calls out, trying to rush after them. “Millie, hold on a sec.”

Jemma follows the little girl into her room, unable to stop from laughing, as Millie first hands her a stuffed pony, announcing “You can play with that!” before excitedly pulling a book from a shelf and handing it to Jemma. “Can you read this?”

“Millie, she hasn’t even taken off her jacket or anything!” Fitz gestures at Jemma with a rather adorable sense of helplessness, before looking apologetically at her. “God, I’m so sorry for all of this.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Jemma sits cross-legged down on the floor, sliding her purse off her shoulder and letting Millie climb into her lap. “This is actually quite similar to how my nieces usually welcome me.”

Fitz chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. “Can I get you anything to drink at least? Coffee, tea, water, some kind of punch that’s pink and disgusting?”

Jemma laughs. “I’d love some tea. Preferably black.”

Fitz gestures over his shoulder with his thumb. “I make them stock Earl Grey for me.”

“That sounds perfect. Splash of cream and two sugars, please.”

Fitz nods in confirmation. “You got it.”

“Read, read, read!” Millie demands impatiently, tugging on Jemma’s arm, causing Jemma to focus her attention back on the little girl.

* * *

Jemma takes another bite of birthday cake before resting the fork on the paper plate. She holds on to it with one hand, while reaching with the other for her glass of water, which she had set down on one of the tables. Her eyes are fixed on where Fitz, Millie, and three other kids are preparing to start a sack race. Once Moira gives the command, everyone begins hopping forward, with parents and other kids cheering loudly from the sidelines. Fitz makes it about three hops forward, before losing balance, falling forward onto his knees and barely managing to catch himself with his hands. Jemma can’t help but laugh at the sight of it, beginning to cough violently when her unintentional reaction causes a mix of water and cake crumbs to go down the wrong pipe.

She tries to calm down her coughing as well as laughing fit, while watching Fitz get up, a slight look of embarrassment on his face, as he wipes his hands off on his trousers. His eyes meet hers, and Jemma presses her lips together, trying to keep from laughing even more. She notices one corner of his mouth tick up, as he begins walking towards her, handing his sack to another parent in passing. The man reluctantly accepts the offering and heads for the starting line where more kids are lining up for the next race.

Fitz gestures towards the yard as he approaches Jemma, smiling widely and looking back and forth between the sack race area and Jemma. “When did I get old? I used to be able to do that just as well as these little buggers.”

Jemma chuckles before clearing her throat, gesturing at herself with the hand still holding the water cup. “I think you rose to the challenge.”

Fitz looks at her wide-eyed, his lips twitching as he unsuccessfully tries to hide his amusement. “I think the phrase you’re looking for is ‘fell flat on your face.’”

His remark makes Jemma laugh so hard she has to lean forward, briefly resting her forearm against Fitz’s upper arm for support, trying not to spill her water or drop the rest of her cake. She straightens back up, catching her breath and awkwardly wiping away some tears of joy with the knuckle of her thumb.

She looks at Fitz, and something about the entertained grin on his face and the way his blue eyes gaze straight at her ignites a warm feeling in her stomach that quickly spreads through her whole body. She inhales deeply, deciding to finally put both her cup and plate down on the table, so she can make herself more presentable again. She exhales, wiping a few more times across her eyes, before adjusting her ponytail, straightening her blouse and looking back at Fitz.

She’s surprised to watch his joyful expression suddenly grow more serious. He clears his throat, seemingly flustered, as his gaze briefly drops to the floor before he looks back up, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. “You know, Millie is pretty distracted with her friends and games, and she’s on a sugar high, so if you want to sneak out, now’s probably your chance.”

“Oh,” Jemma mutters, trying not to sound taken aback by his suggestion. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, as her mind decides how to respond, before another smile flashes across her face.

“No,” Jemma replies firmly. “I couldn’t do that. I will have to give Millie a proper good-bye. She’s quite an amazing kid.”

Fitz’s face lights up, causing Jemma’s smile to grow even bigger.

“She is that,” he replies, turning his head to where Millie is winning another sack race.

“Plus, this is really quite enjoyable. I haven’t laughed this much in god knows how long,” Jemma adds.

Fitz looks back at her, chuckling quietly. “Primarily at my expense?”

Jemma can’t help but laugh, before shaking her head. “No. Although, admittedly, your race was definitely a highlight.”

Fitz’s expression softens, but the corners of his mouth remain ticked up just a little. “Well, thanks again for staying. You made Millie very happy _and_ prevented a major meltdown.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Jemma pauses for a moment, flustered about what to say next. She glances around until her eyes catch sight of her plate on the table.

“And this cake is truly delicious,” she remarks, gesturing at her leftovers.

Fitz tucks his hands in his pockets, rolling back and forth on his feet and nodding in agreement. “Yeah, Millie has excellent taste in cake. Moira and Les say that’s my bad influence.”

“Bit of a sweet tooth?” Jemma asks cheekily.

Fitz scrunches his nose, bringing one hand up and showing a short distance between his thumb and index finger. “Wee bit.”

Jemma chuckles briefly before gesturing at Fitz, palm up. “You know, I’m a bit embarrassed that I let myself be drawn to assumptions so easily, but when I saw you and Millie at the toyshop, I was so sure that you were her father.” She shrugs, her hand moving up and down in front of Fitz. “I mean, the curly hair, the blue eyes. Isn’t it strange how easily we make assumptions like that? A man and a little girl together at a store, it must be father and daughter.”

Fitz scoffs quietly, his eyes momentarily wandering to the floor, and Jemma’s surprised to notice him blush.

“Yeah, apparently my genes are very dominant,” he remarks, tapping the ground with the tip of his shoe, his hands once again tucked into his pockets. “Might be the only dominant thing about me.”

“Wait. Are you saying—?”

He smiles without saying a word.

Jemma gasps, unable to hide her surprise. “You _are_ her father?”

“Well, strictly biologically speaking.” He shrugs, one corner of his mouth twitching at the same time his eyebrows rise a bit higher on his forehead. “Was a bit weird when they first asked me to be their donor, but then I thought about it and—” He presses his lips together, inhaling deeply and lifting his shoulders. “I mean, what’s a bit of sperm when you can help your best friend’s dream come true?”

Jemma smiles, but can’t stop her scientific curiosity from kicking in. “So, it was your sperm and—”

“—Les’ egg, implanted in Moira,” Fitz explains.

“Fascinating.” Jemma furrows her brows in thought. “Does Millie know?” She pauses, pressing her palm against her chest. “I’m sorry, am I being too nosy?”

Fitz chuckles, waving her off. “Nah, it’s fine. She doesn’t know. Moira and Les would have been okay with it, and who knows, maybe one day they’ll tell her, but I think—” He stops, biting his lip and thinking for a moment before continuing. “Millie is _their_ daughter. She has the best parents anyone could wish for. She doesn’t need a father and I don’t want anyone making her think she does. I provided one little puzzle piece to this amazing piece of art. The rest is all Moira and Les and voilà—” He gestures towards the yard, where Millie is playing her friends, “one hell of a tiny personality.”

Jemma smiles widely, before ticking her head side to side, raising her index finger. “Well, technically, you likely provided a good 500 million or more little puzzle pieces.”

Fitz laughs out loud. “Yeah, well, only one of those mattered in the end though.”

“That’s true.”

Fitz draws in a deep breath, lifting his shoulders. “I’m perfectly happy being her honorary uncle. That’s how I see myself. Not as her father. Not as a sperm donor. Just someone she can count on.”

Jemma feels a slight mist clouding her vision as an admiring smile spreads across her face. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Fitz lets out a quiet puff of air, shrugging slightly. “You don’t have to say anything.”

He falls silent, and Jemma can’t seem to break the intense connection between their eyes… not that she really wants to anyway.

After a moment, Fitz clears his throat, pulling one hand from his pocket, and gesturing at Jemma. “Can I get you anything else to drink?”

“No, thank you. I’m good,” Jemma replies, unable to stop from smiling.

Fitz nods, exhaling sharply, before pointing towards the buffet table. “Alright. I’ll get myself some more cake. Be right back.”

* * *

Jemma picks up two more paper cups, throwing them into the large garbage bag that Leslie is holding open for her. “I think that was the last of it.”

Moira looks up from where she’s wiping off the kitchen counter. “Jemma, I still can’t believe you insisted on helping clean up.”

“Hear, hear,” both Leslie and Fitz chime in.

Jemma smiles humbly. “Well, I think it was the least I could do, considering I practically invited myself to Millie’s party and didn’t even have a birthday present for her.”

Fitz places the container with leftover fruit into the refrigerator, then turns back around to look at Jemma. “I think you staying for her party was present enough.” He shifts his focus to Millie, who’s coloring in a book on the coffee table. “Wasn’t it, Millie?”

Millie looks up, beaming with happiness. She jumps up and rushes over to where Jemma is standing, wrapping her arms around Jemma’s legs. “Yes!”

Jemma laughs, reaching down to affectionately rub her hand up and down the little girl’s back. “Awww. Well, it was my pleasure, Millie, and I don’t think I’ve ever tasted a better cake than your birthday cake.”

Millie puffs out her chest proudly, placing her hands on her hips and nodding in silent agreement.

Jemma chuckles over the girl’s adorableness as she straightens up, looking at everyone in the room. “Alright. I think maybe I should head home now.”

Leslie nods, walking over to her daughter. “And I think it’s time for Millie to get ready for bed.”

Millie slumps her shoulders and pushes her lower lip forward, looking at her mum with a distinct look of disapproval.

Jemma bends down again in front of Millie, offering her arms for a hug, which the girl happily accepts. “It was wonderful meeting you,” Jemma tells Millie earnestly, before straightening up and addressing the adults. “Thank you so much for your hospitality.”

Moira laughs, walking from the kitchen to where her wife, daughter, and Jemma are. “God, you have no idea, Jemma. You saved us today.”

Jemma lets out a single laugh. “Oh, I highly doubt that. But I’m glad I could help.”

She smiles shyly when Fitz hands her her purse and jacket.

“You have your wallet?” she asks.

He nods, pulling the wallet from his back pocket. “Sure do.”

Jemma sighs, a strange sense of disappointment and hesitation rushing through her. She shoulders her purse, holding on tightly to its strap. “Well, then. Good night.”

“G’night, Jemma,” the adults say almost in unison, whereas Millie rushes forward, hugging Jemma’s legs one last time, before letting go and waving at Jemma enthusiastically. “Bye bye, Jemma.”

“Bye, Millie.” Jemma chuckles, returning the little girl’s wave, before heading out the door.

* * *

Fitz watches the door fall in its lock, staring at it for a few seconds, until a sudden urge rushes through him. He lunges forward, swinging the door back open, and calling “I’ll be right back” over his shoulder as he darts outside, blurting out Jemma’s name.

She turns around, a surprised look but luckily also a smile adorning her face. “Yes?”

Fitz stumbles to a halt in front of Jemma, gesturing awkwardly. “I… I was wondering, if maybe—Would you—? Would you like to grab coffee sometime?”

“Oh.” The smile on her face seems to grow even bigger.

Fitz clears his throat, suddenly aware of how presumptuous his impulse invitation may have come across. “As a thank you for returning my wallet,” he adds as an attempted diversion.

“Oh,” Jemma repeats, her voice a bit lower this time. There’s a hint of disappointment in her voice that somehow makes Fitz hopeful.

He gestures at her once more, palm up. “Or, you know, just to grab coffee?”

Her lips pull ear to ear into a blinding smile and Fitz feels the corners of his mouth quirk up as well.

“Well, I don’t drink coffee,” Jemma remarks, her eyes beaming with a hint of mischief.

Fitz chuckles, tucking his hands in his pockets and shrugging slightly. “Rumor has it they sell tea in most coffee shops these days.”

She smiles widely, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, that would be quite lovely.”

Fitz sighs in relief. “Great. I… I got your number. I’ll give you a call.”

“Please do,” she replies quietly.

Fitz nods in confirmation, unable to take his eyes off her and barely able to believe that she’s holding his gaze with the same intensity.

When the hammering beating of his heart becomes too loud to bear, Fitz clears his throat, rolling front to back on his feet. “You’re not moving,” he remarks, his eyes still fixed on her.

The corners of her mouth twitch briefly, and there’s a suggestive sparkle in her expression. “Neither are you.”

Fitz exhales sharply, taking a hesitant step forward, and pulling his hands out of his pockets. “Umm. I… I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me, but… but do you think I could… would you mind if I… May I—?”

He falls silent when Jemma steps closer, reaching up to gently press her palm against his cheek. Fitz swallows hard when she leans up, and reflexively he closes his eyes when her lips press softly against his, and his stomach churns in excitement. He can’t stop a contended hum from crawling up his throat, and when the warmth of her lips disappears, he only reluctantly opens his eyes, afraid it may all have been a dream.

He smiles in relief when he sees Jemma gazing back at him happily.

“You may,” she whispers, her thumb absentmindedly gliding across Fitz’s cheek.

Fitz inhales slowly, mesmerized by the serenity and sincerity she emanates. Slowly, he leans down to kiss her again, before resting his forehead against hers, sighing contentedly. “Just for the record, I… I don’t usually—”

He lifts his head to look at her and is once again greeted by her beautiful smile, her hand still resting against his cheek.

“—kiss someone you just met?” she asks, grinning cheekily.

Fitz scoffs, waving her off. “Nah, I do _that_ all the time,” he jokes, relieved when she laughs. “But not usually after my best friend’s daughter’s fourth birthday party.”

“Me neither,” she admits, her voice quiet and soft, as her hand slowly glides off his cheek.

“So.” Fitz clears his throat, taking half a step back. “I… I’ll call you toni—tomorrow.”

A smile flashes across her face. “Either works.”

Fitz nods, another happy sigh escaping him. “G’night, Jemma.”

“G’night, Fitz.”

She turns around and Fitz watches her walk to her car. He lifts his hand as a good-bye when she looks up before opening the door to her car, and waits until she drives off. He tucks his hands back into his pockets and turns around to head back to the house, unable to wipe the happy grin off his face. He’s a bit surprised to notice that the door is wide open, but then remembers he had rushed out without closing it. He takes the three steps to the porch in one small jump and enters the house, pushing the door shut with his heel.

He can’t help but continue smiling, even though Moira is waiting for him in the entrance area with wide-open eyes.

“You did _not_ just do that!” she exclaims, while her lips stretch from ear to ear.

Fitz shrugs, looking back at his best friend rather sheepishly. “I think I did.”

Moira laughs, taking a step closer and pulling him into a hug, before releasing him long enough to punch his shoulder playfully. “Curly Sue, I can’t believe you.”

“I… I don’t know. She’s just—” Fitz lifts his shoulders, lost for words.

Moira chuckles, her expression softening as she nods in agreement. “Yeah… she really is.”

Fitz sighs, staring at his friend in happy silence, until the creaking of the staircase alerts him of Les’ and Millie’s arrival. He looks up, watching mother and daughter come down the stairs.

“Alright,” Leslie announces, coming to a stop at the bottom of the staircase and placing her hands on Millie’s shoulders, who is standing in front of her mum. “Millie brushed her teeth and put on pajamas. Time to go to bed.”

Fitz smiles, walking up to Millie and squatting down in front of her. He extends his arms, waiting for Millie to hug him, before taking the little girl’s hands in his, squeezing them gently. “Millie, don’t get me wrong, please don’t ever run away from me at a store ever again.”

Millie’s eyes grow big and she nods in agreement.

“But,” Fitz continues, giving her hands a little shake, “thanks for doing it today and thanks for being such a stubborn and good-hearted kid that you can convince a complete stranger to attend your birthday party.” He pauses, looking straight into Millie’s blue eyes. “I owe you.”

Millie looks back at him in mild confusion, but smiles widely before hugging him again. “You’re welcome.”


End file.
